


Hollow Men

by StAnni



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Hurt, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 08:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: He’s come to apologize, even though he doesn’t really know why he should be apologizing but Arthur’s face, the stiffness in his shoulders and the hooded look in his eyes has shown him that what he thought was going to be a run-of-the-mill act of contrition, is, in fact, a near impossibility.





	Hollow Men

**Author's Note:**

> *Honestly, this was supposed not to be angst - they just took it in a different direction

He’s come to apologize, even though he doesn’t really know why he should be apologizing but Arthur’s face, the stiffness in his shoulders and the hooded look in his eyes has shown him that what he thought was going to be a run-of-the-mill act of contrition, is, in fact, a near impossibility.

Arthur did not get up to greet him, did not kiss him or touch his arm. Arthur has watched him, guarded, for a full twenty minutes – and he has simply been treading water.

Finally, speedily reaching the end of his tether, he looks at Arthur and shakes his head “You always let me get away with everything…”  
Arthur sighs running his hand through his hair and raising his eyebrows tiredly “This doesn’t sound like an apology, James.” 

So Eames continues, because he needs to know “But why did you? You never said anything.” To that Arthur smirks, incredulous “What am I your lifeguard?” and Eames snaps back, “What are you not your own lifeguard?” 

Arthur relents, quietly “So I didn’t always speak up. So?” Eames stares at Arthur “I could have been better.” He offers, because it is true. He could have tried, if he had known the extent of the injuries he were causing, he could have tried. “You wouldn’t have been.” Arthur deadpans. And perhaps that is true as well.

He finally says it “I’m sorry, Arthur.” And Arthur smiles, a paper thin, meaningless smile “That was hard.”

Eames reaches over the table and Arthur sits back coolly, letting Eames’ outstretched fingers fall on the dented wood of the bar table. “I am though, Arthur. I will make amends. I will do whatever it takes.”  
“To what?” Arthur asks coolly and Eames tries, again, exasperated “To get you back.”  
“You can’t.” Arthur answers, remote and immediate. 

Arthur, like this, is suicide.

Eames shakes his head, getting annoyed “You have to forgive me.” to which Arthur grins, amused at Eames’ provocation “Who told you that?”  
The answer is easy “We were best fucking friends for years before we decided to shack up, Arthur… You need you as much as I need you.” and Arthur nods, admitting it sagely “More probably.” And then he looks at Eames, eyes cold “But I don’t owe you a fucking thing.”

The worst thing about being in love with someone as fundamentally loving and steadfast as Arthur, is knowing exactly what you are missing when that well as run dry.

Eames is ready to plead, and plead he does “We will do better, Arthur. “ and Arthur rolls his eyes, “I will be a better person and I will make it up to you. I love you.” 

He hits the mark and it lands, it is the word “love” he realises right away when Arthur’s calm veneer turns to scorn “What does that mean? Love? Coming from us? I love you and I let you fuck around on me for years. You say you love me but you have no qualms forgetting all about me whenever you see a more adventurous fuck. Maybe we have no fucking idea what love is. Either of us.” 

“Oh really, Arthur? So what has the last four years been?” Eames says, genuinely hurt. 

“An exercise in futility.” Arthur answers without missing a beat and if they weren’t a public place and there wasn’t a table between them he would have grabbed Arthur by the front of his shirt – as he has done many a times and shaken the derision out of him. “You want to repeat that, darling?” Eames asks, incensed “Because I don’t recall you redirecting the ship.” Arthur must know that it is unfair, that he is laying a failed relationship at Eames’ feet just because he is, today, too tired for the fight. 

Arthur looks away and Eames watches him. “I fucked other guys. You never said a word. I came home to you time after time, you never said a word, Arthur. Not a word. For all intents and purposes this is…”  
“was” Arthur corrects  
“..an open relationship.” And to that Arthur snickers, and shakes his head – dimples showing deeply and Eames wants to grab him by the neck, make him stop smiling and look at him. “I am saying that I will be loyal, only to you, always, from now on.”

Arthur’s laughing peters out and he looks at Eames, his arms still crossed, his body still leaning away. “You had me, though. All that time, maybe I’m sick of you, James.” 

And he finally leans forward, his arms on the table, only inches from Eames’ reach. “Maybe the bloom is off the rose, as you would say.”

Eames sighs and this time it is his turn to sit back. Clearly, clearly he is slightly out of depth. He should have thought this through more carefully. Perhaps he should never have let Arthur leave their apartment in the first place. Perhaps he should have told the already-forgotten-brunette he picked up at the pub to leave, he should have gone after Arthur that very night, two weeks ago – before all this got out of hand.

“Arthur, why didn’t you say anything?” Eames asks again. He wants to know, even if the answer hurts him, even if it kills him. He wants to know how things could go so far off track, without him even noticing.

Arthur, to his credit, doesn’t posture behind a jeer and blinks, recognizing the sincerity in the question. His voice is quiet, even “I honestly…the first few times I thought I had it wrong, that we weren’t what I thought we were. And then later, I thought it stopped.”  
Eames stares at him and Arthur looks away.  
“That night” his eyes still averted “I realize it hadn’t.” 

Eames is quiet because the last thing he expected, that night, was for Arthur to have given a shit. “Arthur…” he has to say it because without context it will hurt Arthur more “…it wasn’t anything special, it wasn’t… I know that this is the last thing I should say, but it honestly didn’t mean anything.”  
Arthur nods, still not looking at Eames, and crosses his arms tightly – his tell when he feels particularly exposed “You’re right, you should probably not say that.”

There is a moment of silence that is the end of the world and Eames can feel the icy spread of regret and isolation spider through his heart. “Arthur, I fucked up.” Arthur still has not looked at him since his own concession and Eames struggles to keep his voice steady now “But it doesn’t make sense without you, love.” 

Arthur nods again, and rubs the bridge of his nose – quickly gathering the tears there in an attempt to hide his emotion from Eames. Seeing that, the light drains out of the room. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, looking away “see, for me it doesn’t make sense with you.”


End file.
